Eternity - The Watcher
by Riley Poole
Summary: Harry picked up a small silver coin. Then he started to go crazy. What lies in wait for The Chosen One? Will he rise to defeat Voldemort, or fall to the darkest moments of his life. Post-GOF, AU. This is not Shezza's series, it will be a totally different path.
1. Prologue

**A/N: So I started a new story. Based on the plot point of Harry picking up a Denarius from the Dresdenverse. This came about after re-reading Shezza's Series, so it is safe to say that jumpstarted my thoughts on this. But, I've chosen a different path and different everything really. The only similarity would be that both Harry's have a Fallen in their head. That said, on with the show. **

**Quick shout-out to the people of DLP who critiqued the shit out of the original Prologue and are continuing to help with coming chapters. This story, like all my other ones, will be updated as I write. I have no timeline for this. That said, enjoy the show.**

**Prologue**

Harry rested behind a large tombstone. He mind reeling with pain from the Cruciatus and terror as Voldemort sent another dark grey curse twisting at his shelter. He grimaced as the tombstone did not hold.

With a shriek of protest, a large chunk was stone was punched through and the curse pierced his back, exiting his chest and spattering gore across the darkened grass. He watched in slow motion as it tore through his chest and kept going, a piercing curse he assumed. He fell.

Silver met Flesh.

Fire, burning, twisting and ripping, roared through him. Sulfur engulfed his sense of smell and taste. Then, just as suddenly, the flames vanished and a deep cold surged through his warmed veins, chilling his blood within seconds, before power, pure and unrefined, washed over him. A void consumed him as the power drew everything inwards. Greed overcame him as a desire to own the void surfaced. He reached forward to touch it when a trumpet clarion blasted, loud and clear. As it grew and became all encompassing within, he gave out a pained grunt.

_ 'You will serve well,'_ a voice whispered. It rebounded around his head and then the voice came again. Stronger, darker, sibilant.

_ 'Virga Veneficus? I've not had one of you before.'_ it whispered.

"Who's there?" Harry grunted out through his gritted teeth. The world slowed to a stop and Harry felt blackness seep over him. Within seconds he was enveloped and then sound disappeared. A man stepped into a cone of light. He was dressed in what could only be described as a Roman robe. It flowed to the ground, pure white save for the hem at his feet which was stained red. His features we sharp and angular, narrowed grey eyes examined him. The man paced forwards, the light following him.

"Where am I," Harry gasped, "who are you?" The man smiled gently.

"We are within a moment of Time, dear host, which is held within you, as you lay at death's door. I cannot hold this for long, but for now it shall suffice for introductions," the man spoke clearly. His voice was a gentle lilting tone, but underneath, Harry sensed a sharp edge, waiting to come out. He stared at the man.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"I have had many names, some unpronounceable in your tongue or any tongue of man. You, may call me Turiel, dear host," the man. The name stirred something within Harry. The void's presence grew once more within his mind. As suddenly as it appeared, it vanished.

"My apologies, dear host. It has been quite some time since I was last free. I am having some trouble keeping myself calm," the man said quickly. Harry stared at him.

"That's you? What is that?" The man's eyes softened.

"That is a story for another time, dear host. For now, shall we speak of the moment?" Harry's head jerked back.

"He's still out there, isn't he?" mulled Harry.

"I can help you dear host, I can minimize the pain and allow for movement. I cannot heal it at this time. I am sorry," the man said, with a small bow.

"What," Harry paused, uncertain if the man was telling the truth, "what would you do?"

"Oh it's quite simple, dear host. I shall lend you my aid, all I ask is that you carry my coin for a while; it is currently underneath your hand on the ground. I can lend my aid further after wound is dealt with, if you desire."

That caught Harry's attention. He looked at the man, whose lips were quirked in a knowing smile.

"Voldemort," Harry said, "that's what you mean, isn't it?" The man nodded.

"And I just have to carry your coin?"

"That is all, dear host. If you carry my coin, I shall lend you my power and my knowledge. I can show you worlds and times that you never dreamed of. I can teach you, educate you, empower you, and invigorate you. I can provide all of that and more," the man said as he slowly dropped to Harry's level. He held out his hand to Harry. The teen looked at him in the eyes, peering closely. His hand drifted out and finally, clasped the strange being.

The world rushed back to reality and the muted colors and sounds surged forward, obliterating the darkness. Harry screamed as he lifted his hand. Stuck to it, was a red hot coin, but the heat was quickly fading and as he slowly pried it from his palm, the skin mended, leaving a faint scar in the shape of a strange sigil upon his hand.

Then he stood and felt it.

'_My dear host, take this and be victorious.'_ A surge of energy flowed into him, coldness crept into his veins as the void began to turn within his chest. He trembled with energy, he also felt excitement he realized, that was not his own. He felt power and in that moment, he felt he could be victorious. The rush of cold removed any lingering traces of pain or stiffness. He marveled at the absence of pain.

_'It has been so long since I've been freed last.'_

Harry smiled savagely, feeling the power at his fingertips. He whirled around the headstone, already swinging his wand up to meet Voldemort's curse. The wound didn't pain him as he moved. He glanced toward the Cup and Cedric. Escape was his only chance now. He turned back to Voldemort and with a sharp slash, released a curse and made for Cedric.

He could hear Voldemort screaming at his Death Eaters to do nothing as a curse brushed his robes, leaving a searing wake of superheated air and charred cloth. He managed to reach Cedric alive and pointed his wand at the cup.

"_Accio Cup," _he incanted, watching with satisfaction as it leapt to his hands. His last look of Voldemort was a face of pure rage as he disappeared in a whirl of displaced air. He reappeared on his knees in the center of the maze, Cedric cradled in his arms. He looked up to see the form of Dumbledore flying down the stands, followed by professors and ministry personnel alike. He looked down.

A wail went up in the crowd as Amos Diggory finally caught sight of his son and Harry. Harry looked up to the man, despair written in his face. Amos came closer and then knelt before Harry. His eyes flicked to the wound and then down to Cedric, tears falling freely.

"Thank you," he whispered, "for bringing my boy back." Harry simply nodded as he let Cedric go into Amos's waiting arms. He knelt still, even as Dumbledore softly grasped his shoulder. He looked to the man and smiled slightly to see Dumbledore's approving gaze. His grip steadied Harry even as a multitude of question surrounded Harry. Dumbledore was pulled away by Minister Fudge himself, but Harry looked to him and muttered.

"He's back." The small crowd grew quiet.

"Who's back?" Fudge blustered.

"Voldemort, he's back. He killed Cedric." Harry replied. His words brought an eruption through the crowd at Voldemort's name and soon chaos reigned. Harry again felt a hand on his shoulder, only this time it was Mad-Eye Moody's gaze he met as the man practically dragged Harry up to the castle.

"C'mon Potter," Moody growled as they entered through the front doors. The wound was starting to hurt once more and his right shoulder began to stiffen in response. He grunted.

"Almost there Potter, just need to get ya to my office. Dumbledore's orders," Moody stated, rather gruffly as he dragged Harry though the castle to his private office.

_'I am sorry, dear host, but my abilities are fading. You will start to feel the full extent of the wound and I urge you to seek care. I can only do so much right now.' _Harry heard the voice echoing within his mind

"What the hell was that?" he whispered.

'_Speak in your mind dear host, and I shall hear you.'_

_ 'What the hell was that?' _Harry repeated.

_'Don't fret, dear host, I can hold this for another hour or two. We have much to discuss. And much to do,'_ Turiel spoke once more, strained almost, _'the Void sapped much of me. I would return to this conversation after I have gathered my strength.'_ Harry could feel his voice slip away.

Harry's mind reeled as he was finally sat down roughly in a chair across from Moody. The man stumped around to his desk and sat heavily in his chair. He peered directly at Harry.

"So," he started, "you saw him, didn't you?" Harry knew exactly who Moody meant. He swallowed and nodded.

Harry looked at Moody as he seemed to grow more animated. He took on a different emotion suddenly and his wand whipped at Harry. Blackness enveloped him.

The sky burned, ash and dust filled the air. Oppressive heat battered at him again and again. He stood behind a tall shield, almost as large as himself, and just a wide, but curved, to provide sliding edges for deflection, rather than puncture. He felt the weight of the sword on his hip and the spear in his hands as he readied himself.

He looked to the sky and saw nothing but blackness, he looked forward and saw a multitude of shadows, hazy shapes that hid their true definition. He knew fear and he knew courage. He looked to his left and right, to see similar hazy shapes, of light rather than shadow, standing beside him. He smiled and drew strength.

Then a clarion call sounded thunder clashed. He surged forward, nearing the shadows and slowly he could make out defined features, but before he could recognize them, a blinding fire razed his vision away and he was left to float in a blackened void. It was cold, empty, nothing resided and no natural laws took hold. He slept.

'_Awaken!'_

Harry started and realized he was sitting against a wall. He blearily gazed around to see Dumbledore standing over Moody's trunk. With him was Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick also stood nearby, holding his wand on a strange man who remained slumped over in defeat. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as a sneer stretched over his face.

"Mr. Potter, I'm sorry for what has happened. Rest assured, it's being dealt with though." Flitwick said, as the first to notice Harry was awake.

"Ah, Harry. I'm glad you are awake. We were not sure what you had been hit with, but suffice to say, we tried and failed to revive you, Madame Pomfrey is already on her way," he said calmly, not removing his eyes from the trunk.

"What happened?" Harry croaked out, his shoulder and chest hurt immensely. Just the act of breathing, brought fresh fire to his wound and he gave a wracking cough. McGonagall turned to him as Dumbledore finally tapped the chest. It sprang open, revealing multiple compartments stacked on each other. Dumbledore tapped the lowest one and the lids faded. Harry distantly heard a voice cry out.

"Hello Alastor. Are you ok?" There was a mumbled response.

"I'm sorry it took so long to retrieve you. The impostor did quite a good impersonation," a rumbling laugh and a comment.

"I'll have you out of there in a moment. Just please, keep still." Dumbledore spoke as he raised his wand. Slowly the body of Alastor Moody rose out of the chest, sans eye and leg. Harry gasped, coughing again from the pain of the sharp inhalation.

"I know I'm not that pretty," Moody growled as he was slowly placed into the chair behind his desk.

"12 months Albus. How did you not notice?" He asked, glaring at the wizened Headmaster.

"I must apologize again, Alastor, but like I said, the impostor was extremely good at what he did," Dumbledore provided in a conciliatory tone. Moody dropped his gaze for a moment before turning to look at Harry.

"So, you're Potter?" he asked. Harry could only nod. At that moment, Pomfrey appeared in the door and took quick stock of the situation. She immediately made a beeline for Harry, her wand already whipping about in one hand as a jar of salve appeared in the other.

"Mr. Potter, I should have known you'd be here," she muttered in a resigned tone as she carefully used her wand to conjure a small dressing and proceeded to cover the wound in a dark yellow paste. Harry sighed in relief as it started to remove the pain from the wound. He started again when he slowly felt the skin knitting back together already.

Pomfrey waved her wand again, and Harry stared in curiosity as numbers and symbols appeared in ghostly writing over his skin. She tutted and clucked as she inspected the rest of him.

"Besides the wound, you also show the signs of exposure to the Cruciatus and strained muscles in the shoulder from the Portkey while wounded. Thank goodness you don't know how to apparate yet or we might have had to deal with splinching," she said sternly, "You'll be good as new in a few days time, but what I can't seem to understand is how you're alive at all. That wound would have been fatal to any other witch or wizard.

Harry opened his mouth, about to speak of the coin, when it snapped shut on its own. He looked at her in a bewildered manner, before trying again. This time though, his body wouldn't move at all. A trickle of cold seeped into his veins once more, strangely soothing some of his strained muscles.

_ 'One last request, dear host,'_ Turiel whispered in his ear.

"_Do not reveal that I am here, I would not be parted just yet,"_ Turiel said.

'_How long until we are to be parted?_' Harry thought tentatively. There was no response, but a simple emotion. He could barely describe it. Words wouldn't do it justice, the emotion just felt; timeless.

_ "Eternity,"_ said the silence. Harry gripped the coin. If it meant something that could help him defeat Voldemort, then he'd wait and learn what it held in store.


	2. Chapter 1: Privet Drive, Briefly

A/N: So, Chapter 1. Yay. Disclaimer in profile. No money. Words for fun. This is hopefully the most boring chapter of the story. Action starts ramping up next chapter, but first, a little exposition here.

**Chapter 1**

Harry stood on the platform, watching the milling bodies exiting the carriages for family members to swoop in and whisk them away home. Ron and his family had already come and gone. Hermione's as well. Harry spied a bench and moved to sit down and wait. His only real avenue of vengeance against the Dursley's was to make them wait.

As he sat, he pondered the coin in his palm. That night, it had left a mark upon his hand, yet another scar. He peered at the coin, trying to make out the sigil. It was an eight-spoked circle with what looked like an eye in the center. He snorted and placed it back in his pocket. The voice hadn't tried to contact him since that night. He wondered if maybe he had imagined it in a pain-induced delirium.

The platform was mostly empty by the time he finished his musings and he stood to be on his way. As he navigated the few stragglers and passed through the hidden entrance to the platform, he scanned the crowd for a sign of his relatives.

They weren't there. He gazed around, half-heartedly hoping he hadn't been left behind. There wasn't a single sign of them. He sighed. He should have known they wouldn't wait. He turned back to the platform and entered again, looking around for anyone who might help.

He finally found the conductor, a wizened little man who was missing most of his teeth and had a permanent squint in one eye it seemed. He could barely understand the wizard, but he told the man of his problem. A bunch of gibberish was his only reply. He thanked the man and left the platform again.

"I suppose I'll have to try the Knight Bus," Harry mused aloud as he looked for an out of the way road to call the wizard transport. He found a small back alley that seemed wide enough and stuck out his wand, lighting the tip slightly. A moment passed, silence. He dropped the wand.

He was startled by a loud bang as the bright purple contraption veered around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of him. He shoved enough sickles into the conductor's hands to avoid the speech, shouted the street name next to Privet Drive and practically ran to the upper level. There were no other people on the top level, for which he was grateful.

As he braced himself for the trip he looked out of the window to the front. He watched as the London cityscape passed him by quickly and soon he was in the suburbs. Within moments he recognized the familiar and dull lane they were trundling down.

The bus took off as soon as his foot cleared the last step and he stared at its quickly retreating form. He turned and began the short walk to Number 4. As he walked, he saw a few children out on the playground, enjoying the first few days of summer. He tore his gaze from the happy playing to look at his summer prison.

With another resounding sigh he forced his legs to move and walked up to the front door. The car wasn't in the driveway so he assumed they hadn't gotten through London traffic yet. He would either have to wait outside or somewhere else. He walked back down to the park, grateful he'd had his entire luggage shrunk and put away in another pocket before getting on the train.

He soon came upon the park and sat down on the only unbroken swing. He looked up and watched the few sparse clouds drifting across the sky. It was unnaturally nice out for an English day. He smiled slightly. Then he heard it.

A loud smack followed by the shrill scream of a woman in pain. He jumped off the swing and frantically searched for the source. It seemed to come from the small forest next to the park. He made for the edge, listening for any new sound. The scream came again and he darted inside the darkness of the trees.

He stumbled over a few tree roots as his eyes adjust to the dim light within. He cast about for the source of the noise and was rewarded with a flash of light. He crept as quietly as he could, hugging the trees to keep out of sight. Within moments he was at the edge of a small clearing. He trembled in anger at what lay within.

A woman, dressed in a simple outfit for exercise struggled against a masked assailant. The figure was short, but burly. Wide shoulders belied his strength as he struggled to silence the woman with one hand. The other was firmly wrapped around her neck as he sat over her. She thrashed against her captor and then looked up.

Her eyes met his, upside and he could feel her pleading for his help. His wand was in his hands in an instant as he flicked it at the attacker. The man keeled back as the bolt of red light smashed into his chest, rendering him unconscious. Harry stepped up to the man and roughly hauled him off the woman. She gasped in relief. He bent forward to help her up when he heard movement behind him.

He saw the fear in her eyes and whipped around to see the masked man standing over him, a wickedly sharp knife in his hands. In slow motion, Harry watched it descend. He moved. It felt as if he were swimming in molasses as his body twisted out of the blades path. His wand came up, he felt his lips move, and the Holly stick buckled slightly, a dark burnt orange speared the man in the temple and blood mixed with bits of grey matter flew out the other side. Harry fell back.

The man attacked pitched sideways, and dead weight collapsed to the leafy floor. Harry stared at the man, hands trembling. His wand clattered amongst the forest floor from limp fingers. His gaze was attracted to movement once more, but there was no threat. A figure walked quietly out from the forest edge.

It hadn't been a dream.

"Dear host, I am sorry that this happened," Turiel said calmly. Harry stared at the apparition.

"I am not really here, dear host, to answer your first question," Turiel quickly added, "I have merely sped the neuron and electricity within your brain to the point where we may converse while time seems to stand still." Harry gaped at the figure.

"You did that?" His question pointedly referenced the moment earlier. Turiel stared down at the dead assailant.

"I assisted you, yes." Turiel's gaze was blank as he gazed at the body. He looked to Harry, but Harry had no words. He couldn't say anything. He merely stared.

"Dear host, this man. Why did you choose to kill him?" Turiel's voice betrayed no emotion except curiosity.

"I didn't mean to," Harry replied after a moment's thought. Turiel nodded.

"And, if given the choice to stun him again the first time, would you?" Harry was confused.

"What kind of question is that, of course I would," Harry quickly said. Turiel gazed at Harry.

"Very well then." With that his presence vanished in the blink of an eye. Harry blinked again, and found himself seated back on the swing near Privet Dr. His wand was safely within his pocket. He blinked a third time. Standing in front of him was an extremely annoyed woman; with shockingly pink hair, a Weird Sisters shirt and a pair of Muggle jeans, glaring at him.

"Hello, Earth to Potter. I've been snapping my fingers for five minutes now," she said in exasperation.

Harry blinked once more.

'What the hell was that?'

Harry's mind was awash as he stared at the odd witch, for that was the only thing she could be with the Weird Sister's shirt.

"Who're you?" he blurted out. She stopped her tirade to glare at him.

"Name's Tonks, just Tonks," she said, her mood flipping completely to a kind smile and an outstretched hand. He took it as he sized her up. She was a little taller than he, and her bubblegum pink hair was certainly eye catching. Her heart shaped face held a pair of crystal blue eyes that bored into him as he let go.

"So, why exactly aren't you inside?" Harry glanced towards Number 4 to see the lights had come on and Vernon's car was parked in the drive. He sighed.

"I was waiting for my relatives to come home. I don't exactly have a key to the house," he said as he stood from the swing and stretched, feeling a few satisfying pops and cracks from his back. He swung down and grabbed his backpack which held his school things. As he stood he looked to the woman name Tonks.

"Why are you here?" He asked, as he stepped towards the house and his eventual berating from Uncle Vernon. She moved to follow him.

"I'm your guard for tonight. Dumbledore's orders. We're not to invade your privacy and approach you or anything, but fuck that. Boring, if you ask me. So, what were ya thinking about? You spaced out pretty hard there." She was a conversational and talkative sort it seemed.

"Guard? Why didn't he tell me?" He asked, brows furrowed. She shrugged.

"Something about letting you live your life as normally as possible." He felt a pit of fire ignite in his stomach. Live a normal life? When had he ever had that? He scoffed as he approached the front step.

"What a load of shite," Harry muttered angrily. He stopped and turned to Tonks.

"Are you 'allowed' to come inside?" He asked, emphasizing his acidic thoughts of the whole situation. She glanced down the road, indecision warring on her face. After a moment, she nodded to herself and then to him. He shrugged, mimicking her earlier motion and turned to the door. As they slipped inside, two televisions could be heard for a moment, before both paused, moments apart. The floors creaked ominously as the younger whale came around to the landing. Harry frowned slightly.

"Boy!" the exclamation thundered through the house. He flinched minutely, a flicker of motion.

"Do you know how long we waited boy?" His uncle thundered again as he stepped through from the living room. His face was already a lovely shade of puce, Harry noted. He felt a moment of confusion at the humor he felt, but dismissed it to face whatever threat his uncle issued this time.

"And then, you have the nerve to bring one of the freaks here, into our home, like some king in his castle? I won't have it! We may have to put up with you, but it has to leave, now!" Vernon was working up a roiling storm when Tonks placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and stepped forward.

"Oi, Fatass. Just so we're clear, I'm an Auror and legally able to change you into the whale you are. If you so much as harm him or say one more word, I'll drag you down to Cornwall and toss you into the ocean. Got it?" She said in a calm tone. Harry hadn't seen it happen but she held her wand loosely in her other hand as she stared down the quivering mass of rage that was Vernon. He sputtered for a moment, before shooting a spiteful glare at her and then Harry before retiring back to the couch and the television.

Moments later, Dudley also disappeared with a disappoint look and returned to his room. Within moments, the sound of television programs wafted through the house once more. Harry made a beeline for his room, ignoring the slight gasp at the sight of all the locks on his door. He quickly ushered her into his tiny room and shut the door, and then he shoved the wardrobe in front of it, in lieu of locking the non-existent door lock.

"What an arse," Tonks muttered to Harry as she surveyed the small room quickly. Harry just shrugged and dropped his bag on the rickety old desk and stretched out on the single cot in the room. Tonks glanced at the only chair in the room and quickly swiped her wand at it, restoring a good amount of the wear and damage it had seen.

"So, now that that's done. What're your plans for the summer?" Tonks asked as she idly spun her wand around her fingers. Harry glanced at her balefully.

"Same thing I always do. Sit around and read, do my homework and do any chores the Dursley's ask," he sighed, "it's a pretty lonely summer for me." He looked to Tonks who had stopped moving to look at him a slight frown. She looked to the door and the wardrobe covering it before glancing back at Harry. She nodded to herself as Harry watched her.

"Alright then Potter, here's the deal. I'll come keep you company on the days I'm standing guard. It'll be good for you to interact with someone, but you have to promise me, anything weird, wrong or unusual, you tell me as soon as you can. I'll see if I can't swing getting a few more shifts so you're not by yourself as often," she said. He was a little confused though.

"You barely know me." He said in lieu of any real question. She smirked slightly.

"Doesn't mean I can't help you," she said as she turned towards the wardrobe again, "Now, I do have to get back and report as I was supposed to when you first entered the house. I'll be back in a bit, once I've made my notice," she said as she tapped the wardrobe with her wand, it scooted aside and she let herself out. As soon as the door closed, the furniture moved itself back and rested. Harry closed his eyes. A nap sounded good right now.

His eyes flew open what felt like moments later, grass under his hands as he leveraged his body up. Horror dawned on him as his gaze took in the sight of Number 4, caught in the midst of a fiery maelstrom. He scrabbled backwards on the lawn as sirens in the distance told him the emergency services were already on their way.

He felt around, his hands grasped the bag in which all his worldly possessions lay. He gathered it to his chest as he tried to stand. His legs felt like rubber, his arms felt like lead. He was tired. So tired.

Then a rush of cold flashed his vein frozen for a second and his eyes shot open. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the grogginess flew from his weary body. He steadied himself and reached for his pants pocket, where his wand was safely stowed away. A hand gripped his shoulder as he made to pull it out.

"Not here," a sibilant hiss slithered through his head as he felt more than saw the hand dragging him away from the spectacle. He gazed one last time at his family's home before turning and grabbing the hand, within moments he felt an invisible spectre encompass him in a hug and a moment later they spun on the spot.

Gravity condensed on him, squeezing all breath or thought, then as suddenly as it happened, it stopped. He fell to a knee.

"Don't worry, it takes a few trips to get used to, but doing it by yourself is actually less disorienting," he heard a rough voice call out to him as a head appeared, followed by a body. In front of him stood an imposing man of dark skin and bright white teeth, his head was completely shaven and bare, save for a gold hoop earring. Harry stood.

"Kingsley is my name. I'm an Auror," the man's voice was deep as still water, and his hand was steady as he held it out to Harry, "I'm here to help you to Headquarters in light of the recent tragedy." He said in explanation. He held out a small slip of paper for Harry to read.

'_The Order of the Phoenix is headquartered at 12 Grimmauld Place.' _Harry recognized the loopy writing as distinctly Dumbledore. He looked to the man in front of him, his question clearly on his face, the man simply pointed. Harry's gaze followed it and he watched in amazement as the houses 11 and 13 seemed to split down the middle, making just enough room for 12 to wedge its way into the middle.

"Bloody hell, that's amazing," Harry whispered. Kingsley gently grasped his shoulder and steered him up the stoop before quietly knock. He heard a number of locks click and then a familiar shock of red hair peered around the door.

"What is your Patronus memory?" Molly Weasley asked steel in her voice.

"The day of my engagement," Kinglsey said, a sad tone radiating from deep within. Molly nodded and made to open the door. Kingsley gripped the knob.

"What is your secret to telling the Twins apart?" he asked. She grew red for a moment, before mumbling out an answer.

"Molly, we need to finish this and get Mr. Potter inside. Please say the response," Kingsley urged the clearly embarrassed woman. She looked the dark man in the eye and then at Harry.

I have no secret. I usually guess," she said quietly. Harry smiled in amazement, "And Harry, dear, you are family, which means that I will love you like one of my own, but if this ever, and I do mean ever, gets back to the Twins, don' think I won't hesitate to ground you mister," Harry's smiled faltered slightly. Whether from the threat or the intent behind the words he was unsure. He settled for nodding with slightly wide eyes as she beckoned them both in, motioning for quiet as they made their way towards the end of the hall and a door.

"Welcome Harry, to the Order of the Phoenix's current Headquarters," Kingsley rumbled as he opened the door. Inside were a number of people, including Dumbledore, sitting around a table which was hastily being cleared. Harry caught sight of a few maps and schematics before it was all neatly tied up and hidden away. Harry craned his neck trying to see everyone seated at the shadowy table, but he was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry. So good to see you unharmed. Please, will you join me in the study for a moment?" His silver whiskers twitched slightly as he spoke to Harry, but looked past him. His eyes seemed focused just above Harry's left shoulder. He shrugged and made to follow the Headmaster. As he did he caught sight of Sirius, Remus and a flock of red hair that could only be the Weasley's, minus Mrs. Weasley who could be heard cluttering around the kitchen. He stepped through the door to the study and all sound was cut off as the door closed.

The study wasn't quite what Harry expected, rather than a desk, there were two high-backed chairs sitting next to each other facing a large fireplace, currently cold in the summer season. Bookshelves lined the room but a number of them were bare or missing large sections. Harry's brow furrowed as Dumbledore indicated one of the two chairs.

"Kingsley was able to send word ahead that you'd be coming, but he only said that there had been an accident at your relatives. I must admit to curiosity of what happened, but first, are you ok? Were you injured in anyway?" Dumbledore spoke kindly and his concern touched Harry but the fact that the man just wouldn't meet his gaze was akin to a slap in the face.

"I'm fine," Harry began, somehow knowing he hadn't been injured in anyway, "I don't know what happened but I'm fine." Harry stared at the wizened man. Dumbledore's eyes flashed once to Harry's, quickly resting before sliding over again to the damnable point over his shoulder.

"That is good to hear Harry, I am glad," he paused, his hands steepled in front of his face as he stared into the fire place.

"What do you remember Harry?" The man's question wasn't sharp or cruel, just a question; but Harry could feel the weight of worry behind the words. He closed his eyes trying to recollect anything.

"Nothing, sir; Tonks came in for a moment, we spoke and then she left. I took a nap, next thing I know I'm outside and everything's on fire. Then I was brought here," Harry's recounting sounded woefully vague and he winced as he realized that Tonks might get in trouble. He'd just met her, but she seemed nice enough.

"And you have no memory of what happened in between then?" Dumbledore pressed him. Harry shook his head quickly.

"No sir, none at all." Dumbledore sighed and stood.

"Thank you Harry, for your honesty. I understand that you were not on the best of terms with your relatives, but please accept my condolences. It is always hard to lose family, whether we like them or not," Dumbledore said as he slowly turned to the door and motioned Harry through once more. The pair was met with the smell of Molly's wonderful cooking and Harry smiled slightly as he saw the table was crowded once more, this time with food and friends.

"HARRY!" a voice cried and within moments the life was being squeezed out of him as he regained his balance enough to hug the brown missile back.

"'Lo Hermione, good to see you to," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm so sorry Harry. You must have been terrified. I can't believe the Death Eaters could be so bold," his friend said as she let him go. He could see worry and fear warring in her eyes. He smiled in reassurance.

"It'll take more than a few Death Eaters to get me Hermione," he said as he turned to see Ron standing up. The trio had seen each other not more than twenty-four hours ago, but Harry could see the fear and worry had affected them as it had him. He sighed as he collapsed onto a bench across from his godfather. The two sat on either side of him as he dropped his bag behind him and grabbed the nearest dish of food.

"Do you remember anything?" Hermione asked quietly. Harry just shook his head.

"The main thing is that you're alright," Ron added in. Harry felt a cold pit in his stomach.

"Ronald! How could you," Hermione quickly cut in, "of course he's not ok. His family was just killed. Have some decency." She added pointedly. Harry winced. He really didn't want to be caught in the middle of a row right now. He held up his hands.

"Guys, I'm here, I'm ok, just let it go for now. Please." The two instantly look somewhat embarrassed and both turned back to their plates. Harry looked across the table at Padfoot.

"Hey Harry," he said. Harry looked at the man, and noted that time out of Azkaban had done him good. He wasn't as gaunt and his eyes had come forward a little from their previous sunken state. He smiled at the man.

"Hey Padfoot," he said as he dug into the food. He quickly inhaled the meal before him, including a generous second helping under Mrs. Weasley's watchful eye before he made good his escape. Sirius followed him out in dog form and quickly led Harry away from the kitchen to a small room off to one side of the second floor. As they entered, Harry shut the door behind him and turned only to be engulfed in yet another bone-crushing hug.

"I thought I lost you Harry. I," he choked for a moment, "I don't know what I'd do if that ever happened." He concluded. Harry smiled at the man as both regained some composure.

"So what's been going on here Sirius? Has he made any moves, besides tonight?" Harry's thirst for news overruled any further moments of camaraderie and Sirius' face darkened slightly.

"No, even tonight was a complete surprise. We didn't expect any attacks until at least after August," Sirius said. Harry was quiet at this; he'd been expecting Voldemort to have made multiple attacks or moves, not silence.

"Dumbledore's been keeping a tight lid on a lot of things, and I'm not privy to most of his confidences with Snape. He's been running this like the old days, compartmentalization is his favorite tactic," Sirius growled. His anger could be felt across the room. A small swirl of ice awoke within Harry's stomach. He gulped.

"Sirius. I," Harry didn't know how to begin. He looked at the man and took a deep breath, his lips moved on his own, "I lied Sirius." The man stopped moving. He stared at Harry, intense onyx meeting fiery emerald.

"Lied about what Harry?" His concern edged out any anger Sirius might have been feeling at this point. Harry felt the pit in his stomach grow, haze developed at the edge of his vision and suddenly he saw in clarity the attack.

"It wasn't Death Eaters Sirius. It was something else," he said quietly, the realization striking him hard, he had no control of what he was saying. Then, just as suddenly, his body returned to him and he shook his head, memories clinging to his conscious. Sirius was next to him in an instant.

"What was it Harry?" Sirius's voice called through the haze.

"Hell." Harry whispered.


	3. Chapter 2: Cut the Strings

**Chapter 2**

Firelight danced across the shadows of the room. A large silhouette of a monstrous snake coiled at the foot of a wingback chair that faced the flames, looking like a grotesque parody of a good dog at its master's feet. Silence reigned over the room, save for the slight creaking of the chair as the occupant pondered the current situation and stroked the head of the snake.

"You were not meant to kill him, fool," a hissing voice crept around the chair. A figure in black robes lay prostrate behind the seat. The figure was still as a statue, lest the madman desire his death. The figure was not keen to be lunch for the massive snake in front of him.

"It would have gone according to plan, but the boy, he did something. We couldn't stop him, but he worked some type of magic and the house exploded in white fire. The only reason his relatives are dead is the mercenary you hired recognized the substance and was able to combat it," the figure, a male, said quickly. He didn't exaggerate or embellish, there was no point.

If you lied to Lord Voldemort, he would know, and he would kill you. It was a simple situation and the figure was keen on living. A hand appeared around the chair, beckoning him to rise and approach. Tremors ran through the Death eater for a moment before he rose and stepped around the chair.

Voldemort's face was contorted in puzzlement, his eyes narrowed and his mouth was but a thin line. He returned to stroking his snake's head as he contemplated the man's words. A sharp nod to one side and a new figure walked in. One the man recognized as the mercenary from earlier. A slight woman, with long dark hair, stepped forward. She had a sharp cheekbones and a lean face from out of which glittered dead onyx eyes. The Death Eater shivered as her gaze raked across him. He watched her calculate his worth and dispense of him utterly and completely.

"What happened?" Voldemort was not used to waiting. The woman did not bow or make any movement other than to smirk slightly, a mere curl of the lip and then step forward. The snake's head rose and it hissed in warning, before the Dark Lord calmed her with gentle words in Parseltongue. The woman however had not stopped moving and stepped around the serpent to stare at the wizard.

She cocked her head slightly, and then murmured a single word. Voldemort stared at the woman, hatred could be felt leaking into the air. Something passed between the two, and the Death Eater's breath caught in his throat.

"Don't you ever try that again whelp," she said, a hint of British accent slipping through. The Death Eater took an involuntary step back, panic starting to build deep down. Voldemort's feature remained impassive save for his eyes, their glowing red hue lit up by more than just firelight. His fury was barely contained as he gazed at the strange woman. The woman stared back at him dispassionately.

"You might be the greatest Legilimancer in this pitiful corner of the world, but you are not the most powerful magic user here, I assure you." Her cold confidence was terrifying to behold. Voldemort grimaced and then acquiesced.

"He used Soul Fire, I'm not sure how, but it was not as potent as others. I was easily able to overcome it and destroy the house as he was no longer within according to my senses. Likely he is in hiding or dead as something or someone came to his aid." She said curtly. Voldemort took a moment to ponder this.

"Anything else," he asked. The lone Death Eater in the room had since backed up to the wall, terror and confusion warring for prominence. The woman shook her head and the turned. She gazed at the Death Eater who stared in horror as her hair took on a metallic sheen. A strand rose up and with blinding speed, sliced a divide down the wall which slowly began to expand. Soon freezing cold winds blew through the warm room.

"I'll find him, and when I do, I'll kill everything he loves," she said with a blank expression. It wasn't personal, just business. With that, she stepped through the split which closed quickly after her.

Voldemort appeared lost in thought as the Death Eater tried to subtlety inch his way out of the room. He ran into a small table with a bowl of vermin bones and it tinkled loudly as the bones shifted. Voldemort's hand flicked and the snake moved with blinding speed. After all, none could be privy to a moment of weakness for the Dark Lord, Least of all his own servants.

Brilliant green eyes flashed open in the dark stillness of the room. A small sigh escaped him as he reached for his glasses. The dream slipped away before he could even try to remember it.

He blearily slipped them on and padded out of the room to the toilet, stopping only to check the time, before remembering the watch he wore still hadn't been replaced. He never really figured out why he kept the damned thing. It wasn't sentimentality, as it had been Dudley's before he had filched it.

He glanced at the small clock on the wall and noted it was close to three in the morning. He yawned as he turned down the hall towards the toilet and quickly relieved himself. He wasn't tired at this point so he quietly crept downstairs to the kitchen, with the intent of making some tea. He was surprised to see Sirius in the kitchen, fervently whispering with Remus over a pair of steaming mugs. He tried to turn and head back so as not to interrupt when Remus caught sight of Harry and smiled.

"Come, sit Harry. I'm sure there's still some tea left, I'll get it," the weary looking man said quietly as he rose and moved for the stove. Harry sat down next to Sirius and gratefully accepted the mug as the werewolf reclaimed his seat.

"So, what are you doing awake at this hour Harry," Remus began in a kindly voice. Harry shrugged. He'd been having a nightmare about the fire, but he couldn't remember anything. He didn't miss Sirius's knowing look towards Remus before an arm settled on his shoulders.

"It's ok Harry, we understand. Just remember that we're here for you, whenever you're ready," Sirius said. Harry twitched slightly at the heavy concern in his voice. No one had ever really said anything like that to him before. A warmth bloomed within him as the two older men smiled.

"I guess I'm just sick and tired of this," he murmured. He didn't know where this was coming from, but before he could help himself the story of Voldemort's resurrection flowed out of him. He carefully skipped over the coin for now; it wouldn't do to worry them more than they were already. The pair sat in silence as Harry told his tale and Remus got up only once to refill their mugs. Soon Harry noted that it was starting to lighten outside. He hadn't noticed how long he'd been talking but it felt good.

"I can count the number of grown adults who have suffered as much on one hand Harry, Sirius is included in that number," Remus told him. Pride and concern warred in his voice and Harry felt the warmth within him swell. Harry finally settled on a small smile as he drained the last of the tea.

"I think I'm going to go try to sleep some more before everyone else wakes up," he said quietly as he swirled the dregs of the tea in the cup in front of him. There might have been some mystic design in them according to Trelawney but Harry ignored any niggling feelings and dumped the remnants of the leaves into the sink.

He took the stairs as quietly as possible so as not to wake the portrait of Mrs. Black that Sirius claimed was cursed to forever stick to the wall. Her calls for the death of heathens and mudbloods got irritating very quickly, which led to every precaution taken to not wake her. As he managed to slip past and up the stairs he sighed in relief.

His room was still dark when he entered, the curtains blocking any hint of the dawning sun. He flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, his mind a whirl with thoughts of what Moony had said to him. He felt the warmth in his chest pulse as he turned over the man's words in his thoughts. He was idly wondering what to do today when pain flashed through him, white-hot, like a band of iron around his brow.

He instinctively reached for the scar, as he clenched his teeth in agony. The scar wasn't the source though and he curled himself onto the bed as he gripped the sides of his head. Flashes came to him behind his eyelids, flashes of a darkened room, a high backed chair, a woman of petite stature with metallic-sheened hair. He grimace.

"Everything he loves," her voice was fuzzy, as if heard over the static of a radio. It played over and over in his mind. Then as suddenly as it came, the pain disappeared. He panted at the exertion as he attempted to roll over. Where had that come from? He was disoriented and the after-effects still lingered. He sat up slowly and determined a shower might help the dull pain he still felt. He managed to make it to the water closet before it struck again.

"Kill, everything he loves," he heard her voice again, this time far sharper and clear. He gripped the sink, his knuckles going white as he fought to stay standing. He felt a warm flow from his lips and realized he had bitten them in his agony. At least he hadn't cried out, drawing attention wasn't something he needed right now.

He glanced in the mirror to see his eyes wide, emerald green staring back. His hair was mussed from sleep and dark rings were slowly forming under his eyes from the lack of sleep the past couple of days. He ignored all that as he slammed his eyes shut and focused on willing the pain away. It slowly faded and then the pressure around his head was gone as abruptly as it had come. He sagged in relief and managed to finally enter the shower.

As the water slowly brought him back down to reality he shuddered in distaste as an acidic taste overwhelmed him. The urge to spit out the foul taste grew and within moments he had done so, only to see a black, sticky substance settle on the shower tile. A sudden sharp pain flared from his stomach and his palm slapped at the wall as he tried to keep from pitching over. A low groan sighed out over the sound of falling water and more black fluid came up.

"What's happening?" He whispered as he looked up towards the light. Trying to control his stomach. Fractures of light began to appear on the wall and he cringed back from the hellish light that seeped through, rage and loathing were tangible in the light and it burned his hands and eyes. He slumped backwards and tried to shield his face when suddenly the walls exploded outwards along the building cracks and he sat in on the floor of the shower, a raging inferno rushed by him, waves of heat scoured his skin.

He screamed in pain.

Just as suddenly, the void rose up, drawing the heat and searing flames away and slowly the walls of the shower came back together, fitting in like puzzle pieces and soon, nary a trace of their previous disappearance remained. A loud banging came from the door and screams could be heard on the other side.

He jerked awake, the spray of warm water had since run cold and the tiles he lay on were rapidly losing their heat. He could hear concerned voices on the other side of the door and tried to shout out that he was ok. His voice cracked and broke before he managed to get out a simple exclamation. He quickly dried himself off and opened the door to see Sirius standing on the other side, a perplexed look warred with worry as he took in his godson.

"I'm ok Sirius, just stubbed my toe on the edge, nothing to worry over," Harry lied. He hoped fervently for Sirius to believe him and his shoulder sagged when the ex-convict nodded warily, accepting Harry's words. He turned and started to walk along the landing towards the stairs to the third floor. Harry made it to his bedroom without meeting anyone else and quick shut and locked the door behind him.

"What the hell was that?" He murmured out loud. Panic was building in his gut and he didn't know why. All he knew is that the vision he had seen scared him and he had no clue what it was meant to be. He had some inkling it was part of the being in the coin, but he couldn't tell what was happening. He groaned as his head fell into his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed grasping his forehead and willing the memory to fade.

As he stood to put on his clothes, he heard a slight shout. Time slowed as he turned his gaze to the window where a bright yellow light had flared. He had seconds to react, flinging himself over the side of the bed as the light impacted the window and shattered the surrounding wall. He quickly scrambled to pull on his pants and a shirt. He grabbed his Invisibility Cloak from the rucksack he had left full from his departure on the Express. His trunk was in it along with a few things he had wanted to have available for the ride.

Without a moment's thought but to get the attacker's main target away from the house, Harry bolted down the steps and out the door. He flashed past the small group of cloaked individuals who had been casting spells at the house and flew down the sidewalk. He heard shouts behind him and ignored them as a bright red spell rushed past his face; he turned down a side alley and quickly vanished under the Cloak. He stepped behind a small garbage dumpster and held his breath as the sound of feet slapping on pavement rushed towards him.

Three cloaked figures ran past his still form and didn't slow as they reached the end of the alley and stopped, debating amongst themselves on which direction to go. After a few moments of heated argument they as one turned and went left. He still didn't move. His choices were simple. Go back to the house, or keep going and keep his friends and family safe. If he wasn't there, they wouldn't be targeted yet. He could keep them safe a bit longer.

He ran out of the alley and turned right, moving cautiously around the few Muggles out and about and made his way towards London. He had to constantly sidestep more and more people as he made his way towards the more crowded areas of London and soon he had to step into an alcove and remove the Cloak. From here he'd have to rely on the masses to conceal him until he could get to safety somewhere, anywhere but here.

As he was making his way towards the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, he kept his eyes peeled for more cloaks, but none were to be seen until he found the entrance to the pub. He stood across the busy road from the establishment and watched for people entering the darkened door to the Wizarding World. He saw a few flashes of wizards in robes quickly entering or exiting and then Apparating away in a small alcove near the entrance. He gripped his wand and started forward. He slipped into the pub and ducked through as quick as possible, luckily no shouts of recognition followed him.

He made it to the back wall of the pub and looked at the brick entrance. He quickly tapped the precise order of bricks and stepped back. Nothing happened. There was no movement. He frowned, he was sure he had done the correct pattern, granted he'd only seen it done a few times. He tried again, but there was still no reaction. His frustration turned to fear, what if they were tracking him and keeping the Alley shut to trap him. He turned, and he ran, making for the Thames as it was one of the few places he knew in London.

As he hurried along he puzzled over the entrance, and it's resolute desire not to open for him. He grew worried and mulled the instance over. It couldn't be the Alley itself as even Death Eaters could get in. It had to be him, but what could stop the Alley from reacting to him? Maybe they enlisted the help of a house elf to shut the way, like in his second year. He snorted in amusement, they'd never think to ask a house elf for help.

He finally made it to the River and found a small out of the way bench to sit on for a while as he took stock and tried to figure out what to do next. The sun was at its midpoint when he realized he was famished and with a quick look around, he had grabbed some street food and made his way back to his bench. He ate and contemplated his choices.

He could leave Britain; hide somewhere far away and hope that he'd be safe, but that would leave his friends to the mercy of Voldemort. He could try and make it to Hogwarts, but he knew that Dumbledore would see to it that he would be brought back to Grimmauld and probably tied down so he couldn't run again. Or he could make his way back and try to explain what he'd seen and why he acted the way he did, but he doubted anyone beside maybe Sirius, Remus, Ron and Hermione would believe in him. Even then he was sure that Ron and Hermione would pester him to just listen to Dumbledore and stay put.

He couldn't do that though, his very presence left them in danger. His knuckle grew white as they gripped the bench. He had one other option, something he'd been avoiding, but kept being thrown back in face time and again.

The being, Turiel. He could call upon him and perhaps see what he could do for him. He closed his eyes and sighed, before tensing as the sensation of sharing the bench with another became noticeable. He opened his eyes to see the same being from his mind, sitting next to him and staring out at the water. His white robes were still stained at the hem, but they looked brighter, less stained. He could see Turiel's face now, sharp with piercing grey eyes set under a brow lined with crow's feet, his hair was dark of color and swept back. His face was sharp, angular, with high brows and a pointed chin. He didn't acknowledge Harry for the moment, but rather sat in what seemed to be contemplation.

"Dear host," he murmured finally and Harry started.

"You're staring at an empty bench, maybe look towards the water, lest someone think you insane," the being added. Harry sheepishly snapped his gaze back to the water, but every now and then he'd turn to look at the being as it continued its silent vigil.

"There is a way," Turiel broke the silence. Harry jerked and stared before looking back out to the water. His brow furrowed as he tried to think of anything that he could do. He came up with a short list of stupid ideas and idiotic plans. He turned to Turiel and nodded his acquiescence.

"First, you must fully incorporate the Coin you carry. You must place it within you to seal the bond and bring about my full being," Turiel stated. His voice was flat and emotionless.

"I thought I already 'accepted' you," Harry countered.

"Indeed, you accepted my plans for you, but what you see here is merely a shell, a single strand of an illusion that allows some part of me to speak to you. You must fully embrace the Coin and seal it within yourself in order for my true form to rise," the being continued on in his plain tone of voice. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean seal it within me?" Harry's mind awhirl with thoughts.

"It's quite literal, dear Host. You must accept my Coin into your heart fully," his face was empty of emotion as he stared at the pocket in which Harry kept the Coin. Harry hesitated for a moment before drawing it out. He held it in one palm and looked at Turiel.

"Do I have to cut my chest open or something? What would I have to do?" His concern was plain to hear.

"Not quite. You must place it to your heart and accept me into you," Turiel's form flickered slightly before returning to form. Harry placed the Coin over his heart and looked at the being.

"If I do this, will you explain everything," he stared intently at Turiel, willing the being to say no.

"Even better, I'll show you," Turiel replied. Harry searched his eyes for any kind of deceit, and found a blank slate of grey staring back at him. With a determined nod, Harry pushed the coin to his chest and waited, Turiels form took on a strange hue, of black and red, mixed with grey, gold and white. Bands of color seemed to swirl around him and suddenly the Coin heated up.

Fire spread across Harry's chest and he screwed his eyes shut in pain, he gasped slightly as just as suddenly as the pain came, it went. He opened his eyes. There before him sat a different looking man, who bore strong resemblance to Turiel. He still wore the Roman garb, stained with blood, but his hair took on a dark sandy blonde color and his eyes became a bright blue, he looked closely and could see eye thick black spokes branching out from the pupil to segment the iris eight times over. His face became less severe, and a small P was burnt into his cheek, just under his eye and close to the bridge of his nose, where it wept a small dot of blood for a moment. There were five more faint silvery scars of the letter P along his cheeks, in line with the first. A larger but no less faint scar stood out on his forehead, also a P.

"Thank you Harry, for finally freeing me," he said. His voice had changed too, becoming lighter, less roughened. He stared at Harry for a moment and then his eyes narrowed. A moment later Harry's head exploded in pain and as he gripped it, he distinctly heard a clarion call of trumpets echoing in his ears, and as suddenly as it appeared, the pain vanished.

"Now that we've removed that, let's get to work. First things first, we need a new location to lay low," Turiel said as he stood from the bench. Harry groggily stood as well and with Turiel's hand on his shoulder turned to the river, and west towards the sea. Turiel's hand grabbed Harry's wrist and guided it into the air.

"I'm going to show you a way to travel, but you have to trust me when I say go. It'll be a short, ten pace journey, but you cannot breathe in that time or you will die. Do you understand?" Turiel voice was serious, and his grip on Harry's wrist held tight. Harry could only nod, his body sagging with weariness.

"The bonding is traumatic, We'll get you to sleep as soon as we can, but for now just listen," Turiel's voice was calm as he slowly moved Harry's hand, directing in to slash down with a confident stroke, and Harry felt himself say something quietly, but he couldn't make it out over the rushing of the blood in his head. A slit appeared in the air and a noxious green gas slowly floated out.

"Now, Harry, go forward, ten paces, and I'll do the rest," Turiel urged Harry forward. He stumbled forward and then he was through.

"Now then, a place to rest," he heard Turiel murmur before looking to Harry, who was leaning on a lamp post, wherever they were. Harry started to slump down, when a burst of cold rushed through his veins, he jerked up to look at the being.

"there, we'll go there and put up some wards, and then, we'll rest," with that proclamation, Turiel led the way to a small motel and in moments, Harry had a room and was sitting on the bed.

"Harry, you need to do some work before you can sleep," Turiel said, urgency again colored his voice, "they can't track your magic currently, but anyone with a piece of you can find you. Do as I say and you'll be safe for the time being while I explain, after you sleep of course." Harry nodded but his body began to fall backwards, the cold in his veins quickly warming.

"Do what you have to," Harry whispered, before unconsciousness claimed him. He knew no more.


	4. Chapter 3: Run, Always Run

Chapter 3

The light streamed through a pair of curtains that had been mostly closed. It lit upon Harry's face and as it grew in brightness, his face became distorted from its peaceful sleeping visage. Soon he's brows furrowed and he put an arm over his arms, trying to stop the eventual awakening. It wasn't to be as he jerked upwards, his brain quickly filtering and sorting the past twenty four hours. He jerked his head up to stare at the clock.

It was ten in the morning. His stomach rumbled and he clutched it looking around the room. There wasn't any food in immediate reach, so he shuffled to the edge and tried to stand. After a few wobbly attempts, he was on his feet and slowly padding around the room, trying to stretch away any pins and needles still left in his legs. After a quick stop in the bathroom, he grabbed his bag and headed towards the door.

"Harry, you can't leave," Turiel said, a sharp edge in his tone. Harry's hand stopped on the knob and he slowly turned to the being.

"At least, not until I've explained some things, as I promised," he amended. His tone softened as he saw the quizzical and somewhat angry look on Harry's face.

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

"America," Turiel replied quickly.

"America? What the bloody blazes are we doing in America?" Harry's confusion warred with a desire for answers. Turiel gestured at the empty seat across from where he had appeared. Harry sat down warily. He gazed across the table at Turiel who smiled and hummed for a moment.

"This is going to take several conversations, so for now the basics will suffice yes?" Harry nodded.

"Good, that means less talking," Turiel said with a satisfied nod. He looked at Harry.

"What do you know of Angels and Demons?" Harry shook his head.

"Right, so the very basics then," Turiel murmured as he slowly stroked his chin, a perfect picture of pensiveness.

"Angels are real. I am an Angel," Turiel started, but caught himself, "Was an Angel. I was originally tasked to defend this plane from any threats from the Outside. I had a unit, I was a captain. I am not anymore." Harry's head spun within a few short seconds. He stared at the figure across from him.

"I was then, re-tasked to help souls cross the river into Purgatory. I was," he paused slightly, "bad, at the job." Harry's eyebrow rose in question.

"I fell." He supplied in response. Seeing Harry's confusion, Turiel's face grew dark.

"For an Angel to fall, it means they were cast down from Heaven by God himself. I was lucky, I only managed to end up in Purgatory, where I could work away my sins, and maybe one day rejoin my Father in the Heavenly Host. There are some though, that Fall a lot further," he added.

"The Fallen Angels of the Denarius, a cunning plan by the Morningstar himself, but not the only one to use that trick. It turns out, silver coins are especially handy in trapping and binding Angels.  
Lucifer was not the first to think of it even." Turiel mused, almost too himself rather than Harry.

"Who are the Fallen Angels of the Denarius?" Harry asked. His mind was spinning with information, but he pressed on.

"They, are both my siblings, and my enemies. Thirty Angels, cast down into the fires of hell and twisted until they became demons in their own right. Even one of them is powerful enough to take you on right now with my limited help. Don't worry, we'll be fixing that," Turiel's tone lowered in sadness.

"Wait, are they Angels or Demons?" Harry asked.  
"They are demons, through and through," Turiel assured him. Harry sat back, trying to digest everything.

"Wait, then what are you?" he added. Turiel's bright eyes darkened. He looked away for a moment before turning to Harry. The small P on his cheek wept a single drop of blood.

"I was an Angel of the Hosts, a Captain of a cohort and one of the first defenders of humanity," Turiel's eyes glimmered.

"Now, I'm just a Fallen trying to go home." Harry watched as the droplet fell and no more came from the small brand.

"And how do I fit in?" Turiel's gaze caught Harry and he held him in scrutiny for what seemed like an age.

"I know what I must do to re-enter the Hosts of Heaven. But I cannot interact with this physical world, except through a host of my own," He paused and looked up, "the irony was never lost on me," he said as if speaking to the ceiling. Harry was slowly starting to understand some of it.

"So, you need me to help you. But if you can't interact with the physical world, how can you help me?" Turiel's gaze snapped back to Harry.

"Knowledge, power, history. I can provide you with a wealth of everything you need to defeat the one known as Voldemort, without ever leaving you." Turiel's gaze softened, "And in the end, you will be stronger and happier for it." The P on his cheek wept another dot of blood.

"Then what happens? You stay inside of me forever?" Harry's brow darkened in anger.

"No, then you assist me in my tasks and after that, I will be free." A light shone in Turiel's eyes as he talked of his return.

"What happens to me after that?" Harry asked. Turiel's response was a shadowed look followed by a twitch of his lips.

"I honestly don't know," he said slowly. Harry could feel anger rising.

"So you could finish this, and you get to go home and I just get left behind for dead or dying?" Harry snarled, making to stand.

"You misunderstood me," Turiel said, "When I am free and can return to the Hosts, I don't know what God or anyone else has planned for you." That quieted Harry.

"I can't believe God's real," Harry finally said with a whisper.

"Oh, he's very real. And he has temper tantrums sometimes," Turiel said, adding a joke to try and lighten the atmosphere.

"So, why me? Why help me?" Harry asked.

"You were there, you picked up the coin, you had a purpose I could help with and could bargain for," Turiel said plainly. Harry jerked back.

"And what would you have done if I was normal?"

"I assure you, the very fact that you found my coin, or rather my Coin found you means you were far from normal," Turiel said, a smile alighted on his face for the first time. Harry scowled.

"All I've ever wanted was to be normal," he said quietly. Turiel looked at him, confusion sliding over the smile. He cocked his head sideways as he looked at Harry.

"We're more alike than you think, Harry," was all he added. The pair mulled over the information in silence.

"So, what now?" Harry asked, breaking the gulf of quiet that yawned between them.

–

"He left." Sirius jerked awake. Remus stared down at him from the side of the bed. Worry and fear marred the werewolf's face. Sirius scowled and jumped out of the bed. He quickly pulled on some clothes and turned to Moony. His eyes narrowed as he spied a rucksack on the man's shoulders. He turned around waved his wand. A whirl of clothes and objects dumped themselves into the bag.

"What happened?" the convict asked as he turned back to his friend. The pair ignored the chaos around them as Sirius moved to his desk to snatch up seemingly random parchments.

"He came running down the house and out the front, with a bag on his bag. He smelled terrified Padfoot, like something was happening. But we checked and there were no magical traces in the area, not even a squib. Snape shot a stunner at him, trying to subdue him, but he moved to fast. Dumbledore's in a tizzy and the rest are all on the verge of a manhunt.

"He made it out without using magic," Sirius murmured, "that's my boy." Remus nodded in agreement as the chaotic whirl of magic came to an end, with the bag snapping and strapping itself shut. Sirius grabbed it off the floor and the friends quietly unlocked the door and stole onto the landing. Sirius leapt forward, hands splayed and with a slight pop, the Grim bounded down the landing towards the front, Remus close behind, running on charmed feet.

The pair made it down the stairs, narrowly skirting the Twins, Ginny, Ron and Hermione who started and stood up. The Twins slipped a fleshy string behind their backs, but the two men ignored the group, making their way out quickly. The door quietly closed behind them.

"Too nosy for their own good," Remus commented to the canine who snuffed in response, an agreement. The pair quickly walked down the street and around the corner. They ducked into an alley and Remus grabbed a hold of a tuft of Sirius's fur. With a crack the pair vanished, reappearing with a simultaneous crack in the Apparition point off Diagon Alley.

"He has to have come here at some point, he's smart. He'd know he'd need money, he would have stopped at Gringott's." Padfoot shuffled forward, nose in the air. He sniffed left and right, before trotting towards the Goblin run bank, Remus close behind. Padfoot would stop every few minutes to sniff the air, each time his tail sunk a little lower. Soon, they stood upon the marble steps, Padfoot whined and sat on his hind legs, looking at Remus with forlorn eyes. Remus frowned.

"I don't understand, he can't have much on him, he'd know he would need money," the werewolf looked down the Alley pensively, gazing at the various shops. He saw the Leaky Cauldron sign, and sighed.

"Well, let's go to the Cauldron and get some food while we figure out the next step, I know I'm hungry," He said to the Grim. The dog nodded slightly and they made their way back down the Alley. Remus reached the entryway and quickly tapped out the sequence before stepping back. The pair walked across the threshold and Padfoot froze. He sniffed the wall and then the ground before turning to Remus and barking once, his tail was wagging hard.

'Lead the way," Remus said, gesturing to the pub. With that, they quickly slipped in and the dog Animagus was nose to the floor. Remus quickly ordered two lunches to go and then, as Padfoot impatiently waited by the door to the Muggle world, Remus packed the bags away and they stepped through, careful to avoid startling any Muggles that might have been walking by with their sudden appearance.

Remus fell into step behind Padfoot as the dog sniffed around, following a trail the werewolf could barely smell. They quickly made their way down the street and around the corner, Padfoot's nose to the ground, as they made their way towards the Thames. Soon, the pair found themselves at an isolated bench, staring out at the River. Remus made to sit and Padfoot hopped up on the bench next to him.

Remus reached into his rucksack and pulled out a quartet of small stones, he tapped each one, briefly lighting them with a dull blue-white light, and then dropped them in a small rectangle around the bench. The moment the last one was in place, Sirius sat on the bench, digging out the food they had acquired.

"He smells funny Moony, like himself, but there's another scent, I can't place it," he said around a mouthful of chicken. Remus crinkled his nose slightly, but nodded and looked around. There was a few Muggles, walking down the river side, minding their own business. None of them even stopped to look towards the pair, thanks to the small ward Remus had placed.

"Why here though?" He murmured. Sirius looked up, staring at Remus like he was an idiot.

"This is where his trail ends," Sirius said simply. He pointed to a small spot next to the bench. There was nothing there, save a small patch of dead grass and nothing else. Remus sighed in exasperation.

"There's funny smell there, but it's where Harry's trail ends," Sirius said quietly. Remus gazed at the spot, willing the mystery to unravel itself, but it remained locked. The pair of men stared at the last known location of Harry, pensive and dark. They had no clue where to go next.

"Well Remus, it looks like we're finally going to go on that world trip you always talked about," Sirius said with a small smile.

"No, Pads, it was you that kept harping on about that. Something about tasting the flavors of the world's women," Remus quickly shot back. Sirius smiled wider and finished his food. Remus shook his head and sighed before making short work of his own meal. Sirius transformed once more as Remus finished and stood up. He stepped out of the ward, causing it shiver and collapse in a short cascade of sparks.

"Well, I suppose the easiest thing to do is try and track him down with a spell. Is there anything around he might have dropped? I don't think he has any possession back at Grimmauld that would be personal enough for a spell, do you?" The dog shook his head and sniffed around a bit. After a moment's search he stopped, nose pointed. Remus knelt down and saw what looked to be a strand of black hair.

"That'll work Pads, definitely." Remus carefully picked it up and searched around for a small stone. A quick sticking charm and some string and it hung on a pendulum. He tapped the stone with his wand, murmuring a short incantation. He knotted the loose end of the string around his finger, like a yo-yo and then let it hang loose. It shuddered once and then began to slowly swing back and forth. He carefully watched the small contraption swing this way and that, when suddenly it stopped, pointing straight as an arrow, west. It held the string taut, vibrating slightly even.

"He's a long ways away Pads, let's hope he's ok," Remus said as the pair began to make their way through the city, following the stone. It pointed unerringly, in the same direction. They could only hope that where ever he was, he was safe.

–

The convenience store was rundown, the bathroom was locked shut and the coffee pot had black rings on it. But he ignored all that in favor of looking at the cashier who was currently counting out his change. Luckily a handful of loose pounds in his knapsack had contributed to a few 20 American dollar bills. He looked at the small selection of snacks he'd picked with the intention of holding himself over until he could find the Magical side of where ever the hell was here. There he'd be able to get his Galleon's exchanged.

_'He seems nervous,' _Turiel murmured in Harry's ear. Harry didn't jerk up this time, but instead looked at the cashier. He looked around the store, noticing no one else inside. He took the food and the change and turned to exit the store. In front of him stood a large man, maybe only a foot or two shorter and a stone lighter than Hagrid. His face was turned down in a perpetual frown and he had a wispy goatee.

"Excuse me sir," he mumbled quietly as he tried to walk around the man. A hand shot out and clapped him on the shoulder. He stopped, but that was all. His knees creaked slightly, but his back stayed straight.

"You smell of Denarians and blood, little wizard. You also, tracked through my queen's kingdom without appeal or request. I have been tasked to retrieve you so my queen may know your name and why you trespassed without consent," the man's voice was deep, rumbling out like thunder. Harry took a step back.

_'Run.'_ Harry responded a moment later, ducking down to loosen the hand and then he jerked his body forward, fleeing for the door. He heard pounding steps behind him, but he didn't look back.

_'Left.'_ He spun and ran, heading for the car they had stolen. He dodged the few late night passerby and jumped into the vehicle. It was still on so he floored the pedal, gunning his way out of the lot. He looked in the rear view to see the big man's image shimmer for a moment.

Then the world flipped on it's head. He looked forward to see a petite old man holding his hand out. Everything was upside down.

_'We cannot escape him, Harry," _Turiel whispered. Harry looked at the old man, with his hand out, holding a freaking car in the air like it was nothing.

"Sure, so what now" Harry asked out loud.

_'Let us see what the Queen of Summer wants of us,'_ Turiel said. It was a simple statement, but Harry could feel apprehension behind it. He held his hands up from the steering wheel. The tiny man lowered his hand, the car flipped over and followed suit. He didn't even get a chance to step out before the larger man dragged him out of the car by his scruff.

"Be gentle, Brother, we would not want to damage him before our Lady can talk to him," the tiny man said, his voice was made of steel, despite his tiny and frail appearance.


End file.
